Why I love you Spamano version
by ColonelSexypants
Summary: In which Romano tells you why he hates -loves- Spain, and Spain tells you why he loves Romano. -other half to GerIta version, swearing, insults involving potatoes, stupidity, silliness, denial, fluff and much more. Please R&R. First chapter: Romano


**Author's notes: So, someone asked me to make a Spamano version of the GerIta confession fic I did a couple days ago, and voila. This is Romano's half, Spain's should be up soon. BTW: It's Romano. There is a whole bunch of swearing... Just a warning. And he insults you... yeah. ^^'**

**I don't own Hetalia D: Poop.**

**...**

No. _No!_ I will _not _go speak, you can't force me, dammit! Stop pushing! _Veneziano!_ Stupid piece of–

Oh. Uhm, I didn't see…I didn't know there was someone here. Sorry. My stupid brother… he wants me to talk about why I "love" Spain. Tch. Apparently, this is his logic: "But Romano! I told everyone why I love Germany and I'm still okay! Why don't you do the same for Spain?" Shitty, right? That little fucker and his stupid potato-loving bastard of a boyfriend really piss me off.

I don't even _like _Spain. He's annoying. He's clingy. He smells funny. His hair is dumb. He's stupid. He has a stupidly adorable lisp. He calls me cute all the time and compares me to a tomato. He _always_ pulls on my damn curl, as if he doesn't know what that does to me! He hugs me constantly, he does stupid things for me that are pointless, he's _not_ cute, he's not hot enough to make me get sweaty palms and a nervous racing heartbeat, he's not _remotely_ charming and he most certainly does _not_ make me want to break down into an emotional mess of tears and angst and love and desire and all that shit Veneziano keeps going on about.

I. Don't. Like. Him.

Or love him. No. He's Spain. He's... no. I can't. He's too... him.

I don't care that he's really nice to me, not one bit. He's the only one who gives me the time of day, so what? It doesn't even matter that he's the only person, country or not, who doesn't ever turn his back on me… No. This is all a huge load of bullshit that doesn't matter.

He just pisses me off. I mean, you think I_ like_ when he hugs me and almost breaks my ribs and makes my heart go all over the place like it's trying to get out? I don't blame it. It's not like I want him to hug me. Why the _hell _would you think that?

No.

_No,_ dammit! What the hell! Why the fuck am I blushing! It must be because it's so hot here. Even though I'm in Canada during winter... For some reason... Why am I here? I thought I was in Germany (I so did not want to be there but stupid Veneziano wouldn't stop whining his butt off) not Canada! What the fuck. Oh well, at least Canada is a tolerable country… he's nice. Yeah, and not annoying. Unlike Spain. Spain is–

What? You think I keep bringing him up because I _like_ him? _Che palle!_ That's stupid! Shut your damn face! You probably like potatoes don't you! I hate you!

Anyway, as I was saying, Canada is decent. Although he gets ignored so often… I wonder if he feels as lonely as I do sometimes. I mean, like… I'm not as talented as Veneziano, or as good-looking, or… as good, really, and so I get ignored a lot. Not that I care. Hah. I like solitude. Yeah. …I wish Spain would get that through his thick stupid head…

No, seriously! I tell him to leave me alone but he never does! I don't want him there. But he never leaves, dammit! He freaking sleeps next to me sometimes! No! I'm not the one that goes to his bed if I'm lonely–that's when I was a kid! I don't do it anymore. Don't look at me like that. It's true. Okay…sometimes I go to him. But only because there's no one else around! I don't want to cuddle him or something, I'm not a baby!

Another thing with him is that I know he probably only wants me (which I doubt he even does…) is because I'm related to Ancient Rome. I don't look like him, but it's in my blood. That's probably the only reason Spain wants me… One time I got really mad and kicked him in the balls (which was awesome because he fell over in paim) and screamed at him just to let me go because I know he wants Veneziano more than me. You should have seen his face. He looked like someone had zapped him. Then he told me that he didn't want Veneziano, he wanted me, because I am "perfect, Lovi, you're so beautiful and you mean everything to me, attitude and all." Tch! Am I supposed to believe that? I mean… it did shock me. I didn't really know what to say, so I'd left, but he didn't even get mad. He just looked like he wanted to cry. I was too afraid to ask, but I heard him on the phone with Prussia after, and I think he was crying. Like, sobbing. I don't know why… but I did overhear him say something like "how can I be happy when the only person I live for thinks I hate him?"

I'm not going to lie, it surprised me. I do _not_ think he hates me. In fact, I know just the opposite. And… don't tell… but that moment is probably the one that I treasure the most. Not because he looked really… cute (stupid) while he was crying but the fact that he was crying over me, and admitted that I'm more special to him than anyone.

Dammit… my eyes are tearing up. I must be allergic to all this snow up in Canada or something.

I hear you going 'awww' over there. How 'bout you stop it, eh? I'll throw a grenade at you. _Yes,_ I know not to keep the grenade in my mouth… Spain freaked out the last time I did it and nearly had a stroke. Then he taught me how to do it right. That was… nice of him, I suppose.

He's really not a bad guy, he's just… annoying. For some stupid reason, as much as I scream at him to stay away from me, I feel like life would be wrong if he wasn't there. I'd feel… hollow. He fills up that lonely void with all his stupid loud cheerful oblivious dumb annoying happiness. It wouldn't be right, life without him being an annoying bastard by my side.

Hey. Uhm… I have to say something. It's a secret. So if you tell, you will officially be labelled a potato in my book.

And I hate potatoes. I often throw them at Spain and random people passing by, though, if I have one handy. (Sometimes I steal them from that Germany-potato because I like to piss him off.) But yeah. You'll be a potato.

Okay, so… well… I'm not sure, by I think Spain has something going on with Belgium. I AM NOT JEALOUS, DAMMIT. I'm just wondering. They hang out a lot, and she's pretty… It kinda… I don't know, it pisses me off, you know? He's always like "Oh Romano I love you! I want to be with you forever and ever, you're sooooo cuute, _te quiero mi tomate, tu estas muy muy _cuuuuteee!" (seriously) but then he goes and hangs out with other people. That bastard should stick to his word and be with me forever if that's what he wants! I hate when he goes with other people! It's not that I want to be with him–_I don't_!– it's that he isn't following his own words! That's bullshit!

Once I asked him why he leaves. He said he loves me so much he gets sad that I don't love him back, so he goes and vents to other people. What the hell! I can listen, too, you know. He can come to me… and it's not fair. He makes me feel guilty when he says that. _No one_ makes me feel guilty, but when he pulls out the old big green eyes and pouty bottom lip, I just want to break down.

…Are you saying I'm in denial? I am _not._ I don't like Spain. Just because I hate when he leaves and he makes my palms sweaty doesn't mean I like him. I think it's just because I'm scared he's going to pop up and rape me or something… I don't _like_ him... It's something else. Okay, I was exaggerating earlier; I don't hate him. I just always get annoyed and really nervous when he's around. And I hate when he leaves. It just feels better when he's there, okay? It's just... I don't know. I don't know how to say it. I might... lo... lov...

...Uhm. Nope, ignore that.

This isn't a blush, it's damn cold here! Jeez! But anyway... there is one thing I suppose I should be grateful for. When I was a kid, and that weird-looking stupid speaking douche Turkey tried to take me… Spain risked his whole country and _fell _as a superpower because he wanted to save me. I wonder why he didn't just let me get taken and get me out of his hair… He's something else, that guy.

Hmm… you know, speaking of his hair… it smells like tomatoes. I'm not kidding. Isn't that stupid? Who the hell has hair that smells like tomatoes? He must bathe in them or something, because damn, he always smells _really_ good… and his eyes are really pretty. They always sparkle differently when he looks at me. He's a freak. And his smile is crooked, and dumb, and goofy, and cute, and heart-melting, and—

OH MY FUCK WHAT DID I JUST THINK? I DON'T LIKE HIM, DAMMIT! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT YOU POTATO! You made me keep talking about Spain and made my brain start thinking weird! What's that? You say that you didn't force me to speak and I could've stopped whenever...? YOU'RE LYING. YOU FORCED ME OKAY. It's not like I_ like_ talking about him, sheesh.

Goddamnit, my phone is going off. And guess who it is? Yeah, that damn tomato bastard. I'm not answering it. Nope. He can think I'm dead for all I care. Hah. I can picture him sitting there in his room crying like a baby because he thinks I'm gone... Wait. I don't like this. It's making my heart feel all heavy and weird. Imagine if Spain died? I think I would die too... Ugh...

Okay, who the hell am I trying to kid. Spain means the world to me and I hate it. I wish I could just _hate _him like I should, but I can't. I need him, and I hate feeling so dependant, but I wouldn't be able to live if Spain left me. I would literally fall apart—how would you feel, if all your damn life, everyone compared you to your little brother, who is better than you in every way, and then you meet that one person who tells you you look like an angel fallen from heaven, with an attitude and insults to pack? He likes me. Not Veneziano. _Me_. And dammit, that means everything to me. If I had to die for him, I would, because I couldn't live in a world where there was no Spain. No Antonio. He's sweet, he's funny, he's incredibly cute and he never leaves me. If I ask him to stay, he does. If I scream at him to leave, he doesn't. He's _so fucking annoying._

But I wouldn't be able to live without it.

...You had better not tell anyone about this. I swear I will hunt you down and murder you. This is _personal shit_. I just basically told you things I never tell anyone else. Don't. Fucking. Tell. Or you'll regret it.

Potato.

Ugh, I have to go... Spain is calling me again, flipping shit. Annoying freak...

**...**

**Author's note: Aw, Romano is in denial. I always knew. Hehe**

**Please review. It would mean a lot to me :) I'm sure you are not the potatoes/potato bastards Romano so fiercely claims you are in this. :D If you're interested, the GerIta version of this is complete on my profile. Read it if you like. If not, well, thanks for reading this one! Have a good day ^-^**


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